Chapter 9

Zeon had reached his physical limit.

He didn't even have enough mana left to control anymore.

No matter how carefully he tried to conserve it, his reserves were too small to begin with.

The sand beneath his feet no longer responded.

He had never pushed himself this far in his life.

Behind Deioden, Zeon staggered as if he might collapse at any moment—but the old man didn't stop or look back even once.

Not wanting to show weakness, Zeon gritted his teeth and kept following.

But now… he was truly at his limit.

You damned old man…

His legs finally gave out, and he collapsed face-first into the sand.

As he lay there, gasping for breath with his face buried in the ground, he sensed someone approaching.

Deioden had come back.

Barely lifting his head, Zeon saw him looking down with a disdainful expression.

"Useless."

"Ghh!"

"Because of a pathetic idiot like you, I've wasted my time."

Deioden sat down beside him.

From his pocket, he pulled out two pieces of jerky.

One he put in his own mouth—

the other he tossed to Zeon.

It was a silent command: Get up and eat it yourself.

But Zeon didn't even have the strength to rise.

His mouth was parched from going all day without water.

Eating jerky in this state was nearly impossible.

If he didn't recover his strength soon and just lay there, his life would be in danger.

Deioden knew that.

And yet, he left him as he was.

Chewing his jerky, Deioden spoke.

"The world used to be peaceful. Back then, even if you were weak, even if you were worse than others, survival wasn't a problem. It was a world where common sense still applied, where consideration for others wasn't strange. But as you know, the world has changed. Now it's a world of survival of the fittest. If you're weak, you get eaten. The one who survives takes everything. It hurts? It's hard? Then give up. Dying will make it easier."

His words were like knives.

Zeon clenched his teeth.

He hadn't lived long, but he had met many kinds of people.

Yet no one had ever spoken as brutally as Deioden.

It felt as if his chest was being carved open.

"If you want it to be easy, just stay lying there. But if you want to live—even through unbearable pain—then get up on your own, idiot."

With that, Deioden fell silent.

He didn't even glance at Zeon, simply continuing to chew his jerky.

Like Zeon, he hadn't had a drop of water all day.

That's why he didn't eat quickly.

He softened the jerky with saliva and chewed slowly to avoid worsening his thirst.

It was his own method of surviving in the desert.

Before long, the sun began to set.

Once night fell, the desert temperature would plummet rapidly.

It could drop below freezing in an instant.

Without warmth, death from hypothermia was inevitable.

Zeon knew that too.

I won't die. I can't die.

He began to crawl.

Like a worm, wriggling forward inch by inch.

After several attempts, the jerky came within reach.

Opening his mouth, he grabbed it directly.

Sand clung to it and entered his mouth as well—but he didn't care.

He slowly chewed.

With no saliva, even chewing was painful.

Still, he forced himself to continue.

After a long struggle, he finally swallowed.

The moment the food hit his stomach, a faint strength returned.

Taking advantage of it, Zeon pushed himself up into a sitting position.

Deioden tossed him another piece of jerky.

Zeon didn't say thanks—he just chewed.

Little by little, vitality returned to his body.

At the same time, his mana began to recover.

As if seeing right through him, Deioden spoke.

"The body and mana aren't separate. The stronger your body is, the easier mana flows into it. So if you want to grow stronger, you must never neglect physical training."

Zeon silently nodded.

He had felt it firsthand.

While lying there, he had tried to gather mana—but his exhausted body wouldn't allow it.

If he hadn't regained strength from the jerky, his mana would still be empty.

As his mana recovered, he finally felt alive again.

"Haa…"

Only then did Zeon let out a sigh of relief.

After brushing against death, the world looked different.

The desert sky, now cloaked in darkness, was filled with countless stars.

They spread across the sky like a vast carpet, shining beautifully.

Zeon stared blankly.

Back in Neo Seoul, he had never had the luxury to notice such things.

He had never thought the stars were beautiful.

But after nearly dying, he found himself strangely moved.

His thoughts were interrupted by Deioden's voice.

"My friend."

Friend?

There was no one here but Deioden and himself.

No one he could call a friend.

Cautiously, Zeon looked at him.

Deioden wasn't talking to Zeon—

he was talking to his sword, Crayon.

Is he insane? Or… is that sword an ego sword?

With the blade planted before him, speaking to it like a companion—

it was clearly not normal.

Unbothered by Zeon's gaze, Deioden continued his conversation.

"Yes… that place will do. I haven't killed the boss there yet."

"..."

"It's been so long I almost forgot. Thanks."

As if finishing the conversation, Deioden turned to Zeon.

At that moment, Zeon felt an inexplicable chill.

＊＊＊

Even as an Awakened, enduring the desert cold was no easy task.

Zeon spent the entire night shivering, unable to sleep.

Meanwhile, Deioden slept soundly in complete comfort.

He looked so at ease that Zeon almost felt like punching him.

As the sun rose, Deioden opened his eyes.

The first thing he did after waking—

was wring out the dew that had gathered on his clothes and drink it.

Only then did Zeon understand why Deioden had spread his clothes out while sleeping.

Zeon belatedly drank the dew gathered on his clothes. But compared to the moisture collected on Deioden's garments, the amount was pitifully small.

If you knew tricks like this, you could've told me…

A trace of resentment surfaced.

Then he realized something.

Everything about Deioden was optimized for survival.

Even his smallest actions were calculated for it.

Zeon made up his mind.

I have to learn everything from him. Even the smallest detail…

If he copied everything Deioden did, one day he might reach a similar level—or surpass it.

Drip…

Zeon squeezed every last drop of dew from his clothes and drank it.

Only then did his thirst fully subside.

"Let's go."

Deioden rose as he spoke.

Zeon nodded and stood as well.

He didn't even ask where they were going.

There was no point—Deioden wouldn't answer anyway.

Even though he had known him for only a day, Zeon had already grasped what kind of person he was.

Utterly self-centered. Completely unkind.

He wouldn't teach, wouldn't guide, wouldn't show consideration.

He would take you along—but survival was entirely your responsibility.

To live under someone like that, Zeon had no choice but to adapt quickly.

Before he knew it, Deioden had already moved far ahead.

Fortunately, his mana had fully recovered overnight.

Zeon activated the technique he had developed the day before.

He named it "Sand Walk."

The most important thing he focused on was mana management.

After nearly dying from exhaustion, he now understood how critical it was.

If only I could replenish mana as I use it… there has to be a way.

Deioden probably knew how.

But asking him would be pointless.

As always, Zeon would have to figure it out himself.

While using Sand Walk, he continued refining it in his mind.

The sun had barely risen, yet the desert sand was already scorching like iron.

Heat rose from the ground, while the sun burned from above.

Even so, Zeon endured.

The more he endured, the stronger his patience became.

And his Sand Walk grew smoother.

By the time he realized it, the day had passed.

Only when the sun set did Deioden finally stop.

Zeon let out a breath.

This time, at least, his mana hadn't run out.

But exhaustion was written all over his face.

Maintaining Sand Walk all day while managing mana had pushed both his body and mind to their limits.

He felt like collapsing—

but forced himself to stay upright.

Deioden tossed him a piece of jerky.

This time, Zeon didn't have to pick it up with his mouth.

Holding it in his hand, he tore it into small pieces.

He chewed slowly, softening it thoroughly before swallowing.

Naturally, eating took a long time.

When he had eaten about half, Zeon glanced at Deioden.

He thought he was eating slowly enough—

but Deioden had barely finished a third.

There was still far more left on his side.

For some reason, Zeon felt defeated.

He bit his lip.

Deliberately, he slowed down even more.

It took him nearly thirty minutes to finish a single piece.

Still hungry…

Zeon was still growing.

One piece of jerky was nowhere near enough.

But he couldn't bring himself to ask Deioden for more.

His pride wouldn't allow it.

Clutching his empty stomach, Zeon decided to sleep.

Before that, there was something he needed to do.

He took off his clothes and spread them on the ground.

To collect dew.

Next, he prepared a place to sleep.

Unlike Deioden, who could ignore the desert cold, Zeon's survival depended on it.

His solution—

a bunker.

Fortunately, he still had a bit of mana left.

As he exerted control, the sand began to move.

A pit large enough for a person was formed.

Zeon climbed inside and then pulled the sand back over the top.

Normally, desert sand lacked cohesion and would collapse immediately.

But now, it held firm—like a solid roof.

Because Zeon had increased its cohesion.

Building it consumed mana, but once complete, it required none to maintain.

"Phew…"

Only after finishing did Zeon let out a sigh of relief.

I should've done this yesterday…

Still, at least tonight would be more comfortable.

For a moment, he thought of Deioden.

Should he invite him inside?

He shook his head.

Even if he did, Deioden wouldn't listen.

If he really needed it, he'd come on his own.

Whatever.

Zeon lay down and went to sleep.

Outside, the temperature dropped rapidly—

but inside the bunker, it was warm.

The sand, heated all day, retained enough warmth.

Thanks to that, he slept far more comfortably than the previous night.

—

Zeon woke suddenly.

Something felt off.

A faint vibration traveled through the sand.

"…What is this?"

He pressed his hand against the ground.

The vibrations grew stronger.

Zeon climbed out of the bunker and looked for Deioden.

The old man was already awake.

Crayon was planted in the ground before him as he stared ahead.

Zeon followed his gaze.

All he could see was darkness.

The darkest hour before dawn.

Nothing should have been visible.

But that only applied to ordinary people.

Deioden's vision pierced through the darkness.

Thud—thud—thud—

The vibrations intensified.

Zeon's eyes widened.

Dozens… no—at least hundreds.

Deioden spoke.

"Survive on your own, idiot. Heh."

His grin was full of madness.

He looked… excited.

Like a child about to watch fireworks.

But Zeon couldn't laugh.

Because he knew—

Deioden truly wouldn't help him.

And that only fueled his resolve.

Fine. I'll survive no matter what.

The vibrations grew stronger—

and then, they emerged from the darkness.

Hundreds of glowing eyes rushing toward them.

Deioden said,

"A pack of Great Horn Hyenas. Nocturnal creatures that chew their prey down to the bones. So try not to get caught by their teeth. If you lose focus for even a second, you'll end up torn apart inside their stomachs. Heh."

"You crazy old man!"